Yellow Frogs
This note is composed
just before
the funeral of summer.
Their dry throats give
this music offering
to the rainy clouds.
Once
monsoon had spread them
in the paddy fields
and ponds,
where they organized
their concerts
in yellow coats.
Leaping in love
and diving in joy,
they lived beyond
our busy world.
Their diving dreams
disappear under
new concrete buildings.
Men cleave the legs
of their lives:
leaping joys end
in a frying pan.
They hide
in the unwanted holes:
their tunes are wasted
against the concrete walls.
They are really yellow.
First published in my book, Kanoli Kaleidoscope, by Punkswritepoemspress, US.
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